EST. May 2000 (AD)


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We are pleased as tropicical Hawaiian punch to welcome our brand new columnists Mags & Dags! Each month in Bride Dish, Mags and Dags will help hapless honeymoon hopefuls, so set your bookmarks and enjoy!

DEAR MAGS/DAGS: Tell me if I'm out of line. My not-yet hub Paolo wants his friend Benji to perform at our wedding. See, Benji is in a Seventies cover band, complete with disco –style jumpsuits and matching balls. I pictured our wedding as more "East-meets-West" Asian fusion, not "Past-meets-Yuck". I keep telling Paolo that I'm the bride, but his response is, "And I'm the groom". How can I marry my man, but divorce the discothèque?


MAGS: This reminds me of a parable I once heard. This amazingly hot gal had to meet the boyfriend's makers, a.k.a. his parents. She was so not ready. This guy was more like a twelve-night stand, and they were only on night seven, right? So she had to dress to regress. That is, in the kind of getup her own momma would make her wear to family functions when she was an even younger thang. Did it work? Did the boy toy's parents prance with joy? No, they did not. Why tell this story in a bridal advice column? You can only cover up so much cleavage, love. My disco balls still peeked through.

DAGS: Do these manly morons not understand that you are THE BRIDE? Do they not yet realize that Bride is an acronym for "Beauteous Revolutionary I Deem Everything"?? You are the Queen of the Kingdom, or at the very least Barry's Custom Wedding Bivouac (check out our ad! No more than five weddings at a time!). Paolo is a poor excuse for a piss ant, and if possibly my tongue twister poured on your pathetic parade, well, you're pretty predictable.

Look Bride-o, it's normal to stick to your fellow's chinos like lint, but if he is the one, you're selling the big day way wee. What are you waiting for? Your Asian-Fused Golden Anniversary, where you'll be lucky if you can still chew on a spring roll before soaking your choppers?

Oh, you might get Paolo to agree to no Seventies theme, but the second you're champagne dulled and matrimony fresh, he's going up on the platform shoes and straight into disco reception mode. How do you get him to give up his disco dreams? Easy as generic store-bought piecrust, you goose: ban Benji from the big ballroom. Make up a story about how he unbuttoned his shirt and chased you around the room humming the Seventies and wanting you to cop a feel of his natural chest roots. Voila, Benji has a black eye, and your Asian Fusion wedding fortunes advance in a big way, cookie.

DEAR MAGS/DAGS: My best friend of over ten years overlooked me as a bridesmaid, can you believe it? Of course, I initially told her I had no interest in being one of her backup maidens (I'm a free form party princess at heart). I even blew off her bridal shower! That's back when I thought the dress fittings and bridal luncheons would be lame and prim. She really surprised me; her bridal luncheon was at a four star eatery and she treated the bridesmaids to facies and peddies. Not to mention the gift bags, complete with lotions that smell like the oceans and other ornaments of devotion. Get this: I was banned from the festivities and I had to hear about all of these delights (and get a glimpse of the goodies) from an acquaintance of the bride who has been given MY PLACE. If I had known the bride was such a giver, I woulda stuck around to get.

Long story short, the rumor mill is dripping that my ex-pal is dissatisfied with her flower girl, and has actually taken moves to hire a professional. Should I spill the bridal beans (via fax and email, oh hell, I'll sing it loud in a telegram dressed like a carrot stick) to her wedding guests? I really hate her now. She ruined what might have been the best day of my life. Any thoughts?


MAGS: Wow, I might want to rethink my bridal outlook. Being a bridesmaid sounds like an award show after party! I'm surprised you were friends with this woman for so long, though. Ten years is a super long time, and it doesn't sound like you two have much in common. But probably the other people around you were even jerkier, so you stuck together. Am I right?

I don't have a lot of female friendships, myself (that friend ship has sailed, leaving me to oil the captain and the cabin boy, Har! Har!) but from what I've seen on women's networks, it takes more than glitzy gear to keep a kindred. Do I think you should out her flower girl as a "professional"? Um, okay. Do what you want. Just know that a lot of people might come gunning for this flower child. I don't know of too many petal pluckers who are hired assassins in their day-to-day life. Or did you hire this pint-sized pistol pointer to blast the bride into her happily never after? You can tell me the truth, Bride Hater. I think Child Labor Laws will come into play regarding how many guests a professional flower girl can off in a daytime wedding. You have to consider all of these factors. Also, if you're griping about a gift bag, how in the world are you going to come up with the collateral to pay this mini maniac for her evil efforts?

DAGS: My co-columnist is an idiot. This is what happens when you watch too much television with various men in various positions where blood may or may not flow properly to your brain. Clearly, the flower girl in question is an actress or child model; someone the bride wants to employ to ensure that the wedding goes off without a hitch. Unfortunately for the bride, it won't go off without a snitch.

Do you know how hard it is to get married? To plan a wedding? Do you have any clue? No, you wouldn't. You're too busy shagging and snogging and binge drinking and vomiting up the nastiness you consume. You must vomit quite often, as you are one nasty girl. You have no ties to the bride, no loyalty. I can see why she decided against having you in her perfect procession, but not why she kept you in her life for ten years, you user. I can see you now: excited twenty-somethings at the latest lounge or faddish fete. I'll bet you think you're better looking than she is, hmm? Is that why you stood next to her for ten years, not to compare passed notes or the inner-workings of your best friends necklaces? There's a reason why those things look like broken hearts, bim.

I'll bet when you fax/email/sing like a foolhardy chickadee you tell everyone that your best friend of all these years betrayed you. "I know what it feels like to be betrayed", you'll type out, spilling your latte all over the keyboard. Thing is pet, you haven't the slightest. Betrayal is when someone you thought was your bestest brags to the 'burgh and the 'burb and borough about not stooping to your bridal level, and showers you with sleaze. 'Least your old pal doesn't have to dress like a carrot stick to let people know you're raw and need a wash.


Mags has a new pamphlet out. Titillated yet? It's called Mags' Guide to Shaking the Bait, it costs 7 clams, and there's even a recipe for frozen fish sticks inside!

Mags is Maggie "Wild" Childes: Mags has never been married. She has however, dated married men, some prior to their nuptials. Thus, she knows a lot about the wedding planning process.

Dags is Dagmar Hewlett: Dags had her own wedding three years ago, but that's not going to prevent her from planning yours.

©2008 Christina Delia